


Stardust

by flowersandsunshine



Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Donalduke - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:01:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5741152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersandsunshine/pseuds/flowersandsunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets a panic attack. Hero calms him down.<br/>Requested by freelfofthepandorica.tumblr.com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stardust

“John?”

John’s head snapped up and he stared at Hero, wide eyed. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice harsher than he had intended.

She hesitated inside his door before walking in carefully. “I… made cookies,” she said, quietly, nervously. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Cookies?” he asked, confused.

“They’re a peace offering, sort of,” she said. “I’m sorry. It was dumb. I should…” She motioned towards the door and began to walk away.

“No! Wait.” He bit his lip. “Hero, I should be making you a peace offering.” His breath started coming quickly again. “Sorry, I just… God, no.”

Hero’s mouth dropped open as John seemed to crumple on top of himself. “John? John!” She put down her plate and rushed over to him. “John, come on, come on, you have to breathe, oh my gosh, does… come on.”

\---

“So you have these a lot?”

John nodded, leaning against Hero for support. His hair was stuck to his forehead and his eyes were glazed over. “Often enough.”

Hero looked him over, carefully. “How do you manage?” she asked softly, rubbing his back carefully. 

“I like colors,” he said. “I guess just… the lines, the colors, they’re comforting. But mostly I don’t.” His voice caught and John had to gasp a moment to regain his breath.

Hero glanced around the room, wary of another attack. Her eyes lit on his pens on his desk and she stood up suddenly.

“What,” John started to ask.

“Shh.” Hero grabbed his pens and sat back down. “May I?” Without waiting for a response, Hero began drawing. At first, it was all lines, then shapes were made out on his arms. Vines began to grow. Landscapes were created. Constellations were born.

John watched her draw on his arms, long, sweeping lines, curving arcs, things he could have never thought out for himself. He swallowed, hard. “Hero,” he whispered.

“Yes?” she asked, concentrating on a particularly difficult image of a grass field, the sun bursting in the background.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. Tears began to swim in front of his eyes, and he blinked them away, quickly, angrily. 

Hero put down the pen and looked him full in the face. “John Donaldson, are you aware that the blood in your wrists, right here,” she pointed to his wrists, “has iron in it?”

“Yes, but…”

“The iron that flows through your veins, it’s comes from stars that have exploded. You have stardust running through your body right now. You are made of the stars themselves.” Hero looked at him earnestly. “You are a miracle. Everybody is, and I really need you to believe how incredible you are.”

John stared at a constellation she had drawn in blue and vibrant purple. “I am?”

Hero smiled. “I brought cookies.”

He glanced up at her face and found himself smiling. “I would love some.”


End file.
